


I’ve Waited Seven Years For This (I’ve Counted)

by xziris



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Confessions, Fireworks, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xziris/pseuds/xziris
Summary: Grif and Simmons watch the fireworks, but Grif’s got his eye on something he thinks is much more beautiful. (Hint: it’s Simmons)
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 16
Kudos: 34





	I’ve Waited Seven Years For This (I’ve Counted)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Torriam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torriam/gifts).



Grif didn’t particularly want to be there. Not because he didn’t want to celebrate, or indulge in the free food (the good stuff, not the stuff Chorus serves regularly in the mess hall); but because he was sat on the top of a hill, alone, with his neck craned in an uncomfortable position for no real reason. Right now, he could be in bed, asleep, letting the events of the past week fade behind his eyelids.

But no. He was convinced by the second and third most annoying people he knew, Donut and Matthews, to just come out and observe, have fun, take it all in. They must’ve noticed he was slugging around in the dark corners of Armonia where he’d thought nobody would ever be able find him. Sit on a dried patch of ground for about ten minutes while the sky is lit up with makeshift fireworks.

He supposed it could be worse. Grif rubbed his arm, releasing a sigh that was more boredom than contempt. As much as he wanted to be asleep right now, it wasn’t as though he was being forced to run drills, or talk to anyone. He just sat himself down equidistant from where Tucker and Caboose had settled, and where Donut and Doc were curled into one another. He just hoped they wouldn’t start making out when the first rocket went off.

It boiled down to Simmons, as it often did, who was unable to attend because of surgery he’d had this morning. He’d have asked Kimball to postpone it, but he didn’t actually care that much until he got there and was sat alone with a half empty bucket of assorted nuts. It was the closest thing anybody on Chorus could match to Grif and Caboose’s frantic description of popcorn.

He could sit with them now, but he didn’t want to. Because like Grif, they were just showing their faces then going back to their room to ignore each other and the world all at once. They weren’t recovered well enough from what took place just a few days ago. Caboose’s cast was signed another colour already.

For a moment, he contemplated what sitting with Doc and Donut would be like. Dull, honestly, they’d actually enjoy it, and make ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s throughout the thing. Then they’d comment on boring things such as colour combinations or shapes they could make out. At least they’re happy, Grif guessed as he picked a bit of fluff off of his jumper, that was the most important part.

What would Grif and Simmons even talk about, if he was here? All they’d do is probably sit in silence and give a solid “that was alright” at the end. Or maybe they’d banter throughout, poking fun at each other in ways only the other can as the bright colours illuminated Simmons’ face in a way that made Grif want to do something stupid like confess and-

Yes, okay, maybe (just maybe) the only reason Grif was pissy about the whole ordeal was because after seven years of being madly in love with his best friend, the one time a vaguely romantic opportunity to tell him comes up, he’s in the hospital because of damage to some internal systems.

Honestly, it was kind of sad how much Grif wanted Simmons there. Even if he never got round to declaring “hey, I love you”, at least the evening would be more tolerable with someone else than alone. Maybe he should seek Sarge out, but that was more of a punishment than anything. He didn’t even know why Sarge came to mind.

He huffed, loudly. Where he’d perched himself on the hill was becoming a bit more crowded as the actual display neared. A mark of their independence, winning the war, everything and nothing that Grif contributed to. His hand found his mixed nuts and grabbed a handful.

Salty, not quite filling enough, something to keep his mouth busy with until he could scurry back to his room. He was growing tired quicker now as the darkness loomed higher and higher above the collections of Chorusians that had scattered around the local area for tonight. And, of course, the majority of the Reds and Blues. Lopez didn’t want to come, or at least that’s what they’d made out, and he didn’t doubt it for a second.

The noise around him started to pick up, absent chatter and the occasional bark of a group laugh. People still banded together in their original armies, though there was nothing wrong with that when none of them had had enough time to make many new friends in in the aftermath of the war. Grif wasn’t jealous of them.

Would Simmons be laughing by his side, too? Not because Grif told him a joke, but because he was trying to tell one- something Simmons could never do in his life. Or maybe Grif had insulted one of their teammates in a way that was too specific, too odd and weird that only Simmons would find funny. He knew exactly how his humour worked.

He couldn’t describe Simmons as complex, you got what you saw with him. Nothing like the rest of them in regards to his own insecurities or sadness, he didn’t hide it behind bitterness or snark. That was just how he was. Instead, Simmons neglected to hide them, he simply didn’t acknowledge them. As much as everyone knew they were there, he was too stubborn to admit it.

Yet, Grif buried his head in his now empty hands, yet he still loved the bastard unlike anybody he’d loved before. He’d had his fair share of girlfriends, whom he did like, but none of them moved him the way a simple smile off of Simmons could. Maybe it was because Simmons only really grinned around Grif. He saved it for him, his smile belonged to him, that if he even smirked around the others it brought on a weird twist of envy in his stomach.

The words he’d tell Simmons now, if he was here to watch the fireworks with him. Sat too close, sharing food and clinking drinks that Grif had forgotten to grab. How much would fall out of Grif’s lips as he saw the outline of the person he loved so, so much. He ran his hands down his face and escaped the darkness they’d created, scowling now at the cumulation of everything.

He almost didn’t hear the footsteps that approached him, but it could only be Matthews checking in on him for some bizarrely boring reason.

So Grif said, “fuck off, Matthews.”

To which Matthews scoffed and prodded Grif with the toe of his shoe.

That was not Matthews. Grif looked up, the scowl naturally fading away at the sight of him, tall and gangly. He held up two bottles of the alcohol that Kimball found and put aside for Chorus’ heroes. He must’ve snuck out, but that wasn’t a very him move, and he decided he didn’t care as long as he was here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“Grey works wonders,” Simmons said with a shrug almost audible in his voice, “as long as I don’t overexert myself, I should be fine.”

“Sit down then,” Grif said and moved the nuts to his other side, “it hasn’t started yet.”

He said nothing. Simmons sat down next to Grif, handed him a bottle, and tilted his head to the sky to double check that Grif was right. He turned back to face him, his smile suppressed as Grif narrowed his eyes a little.

“I couldn’t tell,” he said eventually, as if he’d scrolled for hours in his mind to pick out the right words to say.

“Ha ha,” Grif said drily, “you’re so funny. Round of applause for Simmons.”

“I wouldn’t mind that, you can start. Go on.”

“You’re the worst. You’re so annoying, dude.”

“I’m not annoying, I’m just embracing your suggestion head on, like any good-”

“Okay, if you don’t shut up, I’ll be forced to take drastic measures against you.”

“What’re those?” Simmons asked carelessly as he opened a bottle on his teeth, something that would’ve made Doc cringe so hard he’d regress back to prehistoric times.

Obviously, Grif couldn’t say the first method he’d prefer to use to get Simmons to shut up, because that would definitely be considered overexertion. And after that, it was just kind of embarrassing to think about when Simmons was this close. Now that he was here, the prospect of saying even a tenth of what he wanted to say became scary.

Simmons took a small sip of his drink, which must not be too healthy after he’d just gone through a medical procedure, but Simmons wouldn’t ignore Grey if she advised against it. It was a weakness, how willingly Simmons would just do as he was told. Unless, of course, it was something Grif said which would inspire him to do the blatant opposite. Again, he wasn’t complex. Just overwhelmingly petty.

“So how long have you been out here?” Simmons asked, deterring the conversation.

“I dunno, too long. It was Donut’s idea, I don’t wanna be here.”

“Don’t care for fireworks?”

“Nah. They’re pointless.”

“I guess,” Simmons said as he paused to drink again, “but they can be pretty.”

Grif nodded, now trying to pry his own drink open with the army knife that Bitters gave to him. It was tricky work, and it was better to distract himself from the idle words of “not as pretty as you” that almost forced their way off from his tongue.

“I wanna sleep, Simmons, they’re cutting into precious sleeping time.”

“You sleep enough throughout the day, I swear you are the laziest excuse of a soldier out there.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Grif said and raised his drink for Simmons to tap his against. They grinned at each other as they did, solace in their actions. Neither had anything else to say, apart from the whole maybe confessing thing, so they dipped into a comfortable silence.

After three or four minutes of said silence, the first bang popped overhead. It was a magnificent shade of red, showering the sky with small sparks of rose petals and wine. Then another, yellow, smaller than the first one but still a statement piece. It was as if it was daring to become the sun on a night like this, where the black background became even more poignant through the shower.

The colours continued. More reds, more yellows, interspersed with cobalts before the metallics came out. He could only describe it as gold, metallic and bright. Nothing like the yellow at the beginning. Gloriously followed by silver, unable to be grey, beautifully plain miles ahead of the pockets of people.

Grif chanced a look at Simmons, blown away by how right he was. Seeing him lit by the flash of fireworks did awful things to his common sense, his mind begging him to just tell him now like he was so tempted to do. Was he nervous? No. Grif didn’t get nervous. He was just... cautious, he guessed, because now it was more real than ever.

But oh wow was Simmons gorgeous in this light. Every crackle of colour shaped the awkward juts in his face into features that were even more handsome than Grif already thought they were. The shadows played tricks on his complexion, puppeteering him out to be another man entirely, and Grif wanted to melt into him.

He wasn’t sappy, if anything if Simmons did feel the same then it would be nothing unlike how they already were. But Grif couldn’t deny how much he wanted to trace every inch of him with his eyes and gentle fingers, caress parts of him that he knew Simmons focused too much over when he looked in the mirror.

There was no way, now, that Grif could turn to look at the display once more. He was too immersed in Simmons that everything around him fell as flat and as dull as he’d prepared for it to be in the lonely whiles of waiting. Right now, as his eyelids drooped ever so slightly as he looked on at the figure so mesmerising, Grif could feel the words bundle in the back of his mouth.

Tell him. His mind begged for him to get it over and done with, for when would he ever find a moment so perfect as this again? Bathed in the lights of fireworks, so alone but so close to hundreds of others, like they always were. There was a silence in the world around him, which he questioned, until it was replaced by his heartbeat in his ears.

Grif wasn’t nervous. Of course he wasn’t. Simmons must’ve caught him staring, because he turned away from the display with a smile caught in the array’s flashing lights. The kind of smile that he knew was reserved just for him. Grif couldn’t help but smile back, wondering if he could even hear him over the noise. He waited for him to turn back, but he didn’t.

Their eyes locked, and the words came back to the tip of his tongue. For goodness knows how long, the two of them were simply gazing at each other as the sky shone above them. Just the two of them, here, together. He could lean in and kiss him. But there was no point, really, because he was being awkward enough. Simmons would probably cry if he did that in public, and that was the last thing Grif wanted.

He shuffled closer, so Simmons knew he wanted to say something. Confess, that’s it, but he really couldn’t figure out how to move his mouth. As much as the words stuck, there was nothing coherent about his thoughts. Where would he even start? There was nowhere to start. Simmons shuffled closer to Grif, expectantly. He could see it in the reflection of his eyes against the world. His nose fell cold.

“You’re, uh... you’re right, it’s pretty,” Grif said as their arms banged into each other, close enough now that their words could carry off to the other.

“Hm,” Simmons hummed quietly, “it is. Honestly, I’m glad I got to see it. Nice to spend time with you, too.”

They were still looking at each other, this close, unmoving. He could just blurt it out, but Grif’s outbursts have proven to end horribly on the occasions that they happened. That was more something Simmons did, let what he wanted to tumble out from his mind then straighten himself out like nothing happened. Oftentimes with an added “you didn’t hear that” which Grif was more than happy to oblige to- he probably didn’t catch or remember half of it anyway.

“Yeah,” was all Grif said, not wanting to say anything more and risk ruining the edges of composure he clung to. He was going to do this, he’d decided that much. It had to be now, but he had to find the right words, which was becoming increasingly more complicated in his swimming thoughts, all of them relating right back to Simmons. If he could only pluck one out and use it as a guideline.

“Yeah,” Grif repeated, “it’s been a while, um... and I like- I like spending time with you.”

Simmons looked taken aback, if anything, not expecting the compliment. In the dimness, Grif couldn’t see it very well, but he was certain Simmons went as red as the first firework. Everything became immensely more easy when he did. Neither of them were good at this, all this feel-y nonsense. It wasn’t them, which was disheartening slightly, but it was more reassuring than anything. This was doable, and it would happen, in their own socially awkward and stupid way. Grif looked at Simmons, in all his beauty, and swallowed back the caution he’d convinced himself was there over nerves.

“Yeah, um. I really like spending time with you, and we’ve been friends a long while, now, and...” Grif trailed off, wanting to say it but unable to find it. He’d said it to himself a thousand times, both in his mind and to his reflection when he was practicing this moment. It was a hell of a lot easier then, without Simmons actually being there. 

“And...?” Simmons asked, his eyes frantically searching Grif’s face as if to just get an answer. Grif wanted to give it to him, he truly did, but his heartbeat was too hard to think over. He dug deep into the corners of his mind, to say anything, but it was cloudy and he’d really overestimated his ability to do anything back when he was alone on the hill.

And... well, he loved him. He loved him so much that he couldn’t say it. It felt so plain and simple to say “I love you, Simmons” but what else was there that delivered the same sentiment? Neither of them would appreciate anything other than straightforward when it came to this, Grif was absolutely sure of it.

Simmons was still begging for him to finish, he could see it in the way his face tightened. Even in the night, with their only light fleeting and unpredictable, Grif could drink in every twist of the emotions he displayed. He wanted to give him the answer.

“And, well...” he trailed off again, looking down to avoid Simmons’ eyes. Their arms were still squeezed into one another, their hands were close enough already. He didn’t need to say words, really, if he grabbed on and gave Simmons a reassuring squeeze.

So he did it. Their hands laced together, locked on and neither would pull away. He knew that, because Simmons was just as desperate for the touch as Grif, latching on with force and determination. Joined together now, Grif exhaled and restarted his words.

“I really like spending time with you, Simmons. I’m glad you managed to come out. And, uh. And I love you.”

He’d done it. Right then, and right there, he’d done it. Simmons knew now, even if he took it as a platonic show of affection, which he didn’t think he did. Not on a night like this, not in a place like this. If Simmons didn’t feel the same, then so be it. Grif actually did it! One of them had finally communicated the feelings they’d been repressing and hiding from the other for years, which was a decent start.

Actually, he did change his mind. Because now he cared if Simmons felt the same, Grif thought as he rubbed the top of his hand with his thumb, as he really did want to at least kiss him one day. He should’ve looked him in the eyes again. It would’ve been better, but he could panic about the past all he wanted without anything being better. What was done, was done, and that’s all he could ask for now. He just needed Simmons to say something, anything.

“You love me?” Simmons asked just as the fireworks display has finished. It was hard to see him now, and people around them still hadn’t properly regained the ambient chatter that paused to watch the display, that was actually very beautiful.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Simmons said, with his voice wavering, and his hand squeezing on even harder to Grif’s. He could tell just from the hitch in his voice that it was going to be okay.

He pushed his palm down into his, and Grif looked up from their intertwined fingers to see his smile wide but trembling in the light provided by his cybernetic eye. He knew what he was going to say before he said it, he didn’t doubt that, but he still wanted to hear the words from Simmons’ mouth.

“I love you too, Grif.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day, exchange partner!! I hope you enjoyed some sweet Grimmons lol. :D And happy Valentine’s Day to everybody else, too!! Hope you and whoever you love have a nice day! ;3


End file.
